


My Shoulder Is Your Rest

by bergann



Category: Beautiful People (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-18
Updated: 2009-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bergann/pseuds/bergann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debbie Doonan, despite what others might think, is not just some stupid old housewife who can't control her family. She doesn't just sit around all day, waiting for her family to come home from school and work and wherever else they go off to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Shoulder Is Your Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna/gifts).



> I'm the originally assigned writer for this, and had a lot of fun writing it! Debbie and Simon's relationship is one of my favourite things about the show, so I was well pleased to get the chance to write about it.

Debbie Doonan, despite what others might think, is not just some stupid old housewife who can't control her family. She doesn't just sit around all day, waiting for her family to come home from school and work and wherever else they go off to. Indeed, she doesn't spend all her time worrying about the cleaning and the garden and whether or not Mr. Harlan three houses up is having an affair.

Okay, so that last one is mostly just because she already knows (and he is, the dirty old man, with the girl behind the cashier at Oxfam).

What Debbie would really like to see is Mrs. Garish from down the street, take care of a son girlier than _she_ is, a daughter with her door always open to the public so to speak, and a blind woman of a best friend who refuses to get a guide dog that can actually see. Wouldn't last a week, that one, because Mrs. Garish from down the street _is_ a silly housewife who can't control her family, and all she has to deal with is her alcoholic husband and their bully of a son.

Debbie, on the other hand, has a job, reads and she knows exactly when and how to drop a story in front of her kids to make _them_ use _their_ brains. And alright, so that hasn't been as well as a success with Ashlene, but as Thomas Palmer once wrote, 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.' And just look at how Simon's turned out so far! Admittedly he is a little high maintenance for a simple middle class home, but no one's perfect.

She has a way of dealing with Hayley too, that's quite simple, really: let her do things the way she wants to, and laugh if it goes wrong -- while still making it perfectly clear that she's there should Hayley wish to talk about it. That's not to say she doesn't adopt this way of doing things with her kids too, because she does, and the reason why is because that is, quite simply put, what family means. There to laugh at the good and the bad times.

Of course, laughter's not always appropriate Because whatever trouble her family might encounter, they're always safe and sound in the end, if just a little worse for the wear. The important thing is that they've got a new experience under their belts to learn from. That's what life is is all about, innit, the experiences one gathers as life takes place. It builds character. Gives people the chance to grow into true individuals.

So, back on track, Debbie is in no way a stupid old housewife. Which is why she knows exactly what's happened when Simon comes home from school with this particular look on his face that says something potentially big has happened. Simon sees her standing in the doorway to the kitchen and practically bolts up the stairs, jacket and shoes still on.

She waits a minute before following him upstairs. Simon's on his bed, his purple feather boa wrapped around his neck while his fingers brush over it. "What's happened, sweetheart?"

"Mom," Simon says slowly, "You know how you always tell me I can tell you anything?"

"Of course," Debbie says, "I'll always be here for you, Simon, no matter what."

"And you won't tell dad?"

Debbie considers that. There's not all that much she's kept from Andy over the years, considering, and hardly important stuff when it comes to their kids. It's just not done. But she's sure he'll understand. "If you don't want me to, then my lips are sealed." She mimes sealing them, locking them and throwing away the key. Then she smiles. "You know you can trust me."

"You know that new boy in my class?" Simon asks, "The one who moved here last week?"

"The one who you said had a voice like a yippie Yorkie?" Debbie asks, just to clarify. To be honest, Simon says a lot of things during the week and she can't be expected to listen to all of it.

Simon nods. "He's been hanging around with Jayeson Jackson and his friends a lot lately, but he's in my math class and we talk occasionally and he's nice." There's a long silence, where Debbie doesn't know what's expected of her to say and Simon's making it clear that there is still more to the story. She doesn't want to pressure him though, as she's learned the hard way that occasionally saying nothing is the only way to not make Simon clam up. "I got kissed today," Simon blurts out eventually, "by a boy."

The last part is said considerably lower, almost a whisper. "What, really?" Debbie asks, "By whom?"

Simon gives her a look. "Use your mind, mother."

"What?" Debbie says, and then, "Oh. Really? The new kid?" Simon nods miserably. "Why on Earth would he do that?"

"_Mom_!"

"Sorry, sweetheart, I just meant if he's hanging with the school ground bullies, he's not exactly the type you'd expect to kiss his fellow male classmates," She explains, "But that's not important. So he kissed you. What do we think about this?"

"I'm not sure," Simon admits, "I've never kissed anyone before."

Honestly, Debbie's a little surprised at this. She would've thought that by now, Simon would've at least tried with Kylie. She'd taken it as a given, almost. "Did you like it?"

"_Mom!_"

"What," Debbie says, defensively, "it's a perfectly reasonable question, love. It's your first kiss, after all, an important point in everyone's life, not to mention the teenage years of a homosexual growing up in a place like this."

"It's not a question anyone should have to hear from their own mother," Simon says firmly, pulling a face. Eventually, however, he seems to get over himself enough to add, "It wasn't what I thought it would be."

"And how was that?"

Simon sighs. "Grand. Fantabulous. Magical. I thought it would fill me with warmth and joy and the stars would align. This was just unexpected and awkward and kind of gross."

Debbie smiles and pats his hand, because God knows there'll only be shouting if her hand strays towards his hair. "Oh, Simon, the stars and magic won't happen for a while yet, I'm afraid. I didn't have that until I met your father, and even then it could've just been the fumes from my hairspray. Or just the fumes around us in general, it not being the sort of place with the air quality of today," She adds, feeling a need to explain. It's important to teach the kids of today about what it was like back then, as they certainly won't hear it anywhere else.

"What if it's never like that for me?" Simon asks quietly, and she thinks that only her son is able to project this kind of abject misery at will.

"Oh honey, of course you will," She reassures him, "You'll find your special someone and then you'll want nothing more than to kiss him every second of every day."

"You're not like that with dad," Simon says, almost accusingly.

"Well, of course not, Simon," Debbie says, laughing. "We're married, we are. Once that ring is on your finger, the sex and romance goes right out the window." She considers adding that they'd never hear the end of the complaints if they were still walking around like crazy teenagers, but by the look on Simon's face, that comment has made it clear enough.

"That's disgusting, mother," Simon complains, hiding under his pillow. She giggles and gives him a last pet.

"Kylie's on his way over," She says, glancing out the window. It might take him a while, as for every two steps forward he does a hop and a twirl back, but she's got no doubt he'll reach the house in the end. He usually does after all. "If the two of you need anything, you both know where the kitchen is."

Andy's out in the backyard, she knows, but before she goes to remind of their youth, she sticks her head back into Simon's room and says, "This boy, d'you reckon he's going to be kissing you again?"

He stares at her for a while, a frown on his face. "I don't know, mom. Though I think I might...want him to."

She thinks about this and nods. "Good. You don't let anybody kiss you that you don't want to, Simon Doonan. You remember that."

*

Simon comes home two weeks later, door slamming shut behind him and his feet stomping angrily up the stairs, the way they usually do when he's been told something new and fabulous is too expensive for him, before the bedroom door slams shut as well. "Was that Simon?" Hayley asks.

"Yes, Hales," Debbie says, "Who else, eh? I guess I should go make sure things are okay."

"Doesn't sound like it," Hayley says, "If you want my opinion that is, not that you ever do."

"Oh, now don't start up that old shit again," Andy complains, stops Debbie's progress through the door. "You sure you don't want me to go up after him, Debs?"

"Nah, Andy, I reckon this is something that should stay strictly between a child and their mother," Debbie says before giving him a quick kiss.

"You said that about Ashlene too," Andy points out.

"Yes, and it was no less true for her, now was it?" Debbie points out, "You just stay here and enjoy the program, lover."

She runs into Ashlene in the hall, just closing the door behind her. They'd all been surprised and proud when Ashlene had decided to go back to school again after the failed pregnancy. "I kicked him for ya," she says, blowing a bubble with her gum. "Don't think I did it for him, 'cause I didn't. I did it so that you wouldn't get arrested again for decking someone at our school."

"Best not to mention this to anyone else, yeah?" Debbie says, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Like I would," Ashlene scoffs, "I only told you in case the little shit told on me."

"That's sweet," Debbie says, smiling as she moves past her up the stairs. Whoever said her daughter was a complete failure is obviously a total lying slag.

"Whatever," Ashlene says, and moves into the living room to the others.

"Simon," Debbie calls, knocking gently on his door before opening it. "You alright, dear?"

"No," Simon groans, teenage despair dripping from every letter. "Does it look like I'm alright, woman?"

"What've I said about you calling me 'woman'?" Debbie says, then shakes it off. It isn't important. "What's happened?"

"He dumped me," Simon sniffles, doesn't look up from his pillow at all.

"Oh, sweetheart," Debbie says, settling down on the corner of the bed, combing her fingers through his hair. She figures it's allowed, this once. "I'm so sorry. How'd it happen?"

"Fourth period," Simon says, "Just before the bell rang in. Told me he wanted nothing to do with a gay like me--"

"--that asshole! Sorry, Simon, continue."

"--and then he told the class I'd tried to kiss him!" Simon's voice is a cry now, high-pitched and setting the dog next door barking. "Never mind the fact that he's the one putting his tongue in my mouth for the past two weeks!"

"First of all, Simon, I know we're a free-sharing family, but there are things a mother don't need to know about their son's boyfriends," Debbie says calmly, though she continues petting him to make sure that he doesn't take it the wrong way. "And B, I wouldn't mind giving that little shit a taste of my fist. Thirdly, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Invent a time machine so I can turn back time and never think this was a good idea in the first place?" Simon suggests.

"I'll get working on it," Debbie promises, "You want me to go?"

"No," Simon whispers, "I'd -- I'd actually really like it if you stayed. Just for a little while."

"Of course," Debbie says, lying down on the bed next to him. "Anything for my darling boy."

"Thanks."

"If you don't mind me asking, Simon, what was the last name of this young boy again?"

"Thompson," Simon says, "Why? You're not going to do anything, are you?"

"Of course not," Debbie says, carding her fingers through his hair and already thinking of how the pub's no longer going to be open to any Thompsons -- at least not without their pint having a bit of spit and dirt in it –- and how it's about time Ashlene got some extra pocket money anyway. "A mother just wants to know."


End file.
